


The Devil in Love

by Tigresse



Series: The Devil Trilogy [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dark Sherlock Holmes, Devil Jim Moriarty, Evil Plans, Holmes Brothers, M/M, Mischief, Mycroft in Love, Sexy Jim Moriarty, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 03:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20220970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: Mycroft Holmes makes a deal with a sexy devil





	The Devil in Love

“We got him,” Charles, Mycroft’s second in command, gushed over the phone.

“Don’t get too excited about this Charlie,” Mycroft said, “He got himself caught.”

Enthusiasm dampened, Charles Baker took instructions from Mycroft Holmes on the ‘safe-house’ where they were supposed to bring in their ‘prized’ catch. Mycroft hung up and relaxed back in his chair, swiveling around and watching the various cameras planted in and around the innocuous looking property. He could see the van about a mile away, approaching the homestead slowly, way too slowly, damn it why wasn’t the driver putting his foot down on the gas pedal? The Mi5 and Mi6 boss, the most powerful man in England, adjusted his clothes and snuck a quick glance in a mirror, turning up his nose at the way he looked. Shit, too less hair, skin is too pale, eye color too common.

He realized that he had never critiqued his appearance so much before. A man’s looks originate and refine according to his knowledge, intelligence, success and personality. Okay, his grooming and sense of style too. But looks? Who cared about looks?

_You do now_, his inner voice told him….._mocked him_.

Eventually the van came to a rolling halt in front of the homestead, right outside the fenced-in area depicting the boundaries of the property. The split-rail fence culminated in a wide metal tube gate, which opened remotely. Mycroft pressed the button the moment the familiar slender, compact figure stepped out of the van.

Mycroft felt his heart skip a beat. What was about this boyish, fresh-faced slim as a reed man that always made people want to bow before him, either out of fear or attraction? How did he hold so much sway over the world?

I am not the world, or like most people who inhabit it. I am Mycroft Holmes. Thomas Mycroft Chad Holmes. I don’t fall for psychopaths who are unstable, impulsive and can be fatal to the security of the country.

Yet Mycroft felt compelled to go to the main door of the cottage inside the homestead and open it, standing there impatiently. Okay, what was Jim doing? Oh, he was taking a walk around the midsize homestead. Surveying the chicken coop, the cow-shed, the pig-pen, the stables, the greenhouse, the cluster of apple trees and the bushes growing strawberries and blueberries, and finally ruminating around the divided patches of land where produce of lettuce, cabbage, onions, potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, beans, pumpkins, cucumbers and spinach grew.

“Moriarty,” he called out after fifteen minutes has passed. He needed to have a chat with this man right away. This was not a vacation or a picnic. He had chosen this property as it was in a remote area, totally unassuming and it was possible to hide in plain sight with such a spot.

“Horses,” Jim pointed at the stables where four equines stood, “I want to ride.”

This is all kinds of wrong. He is totally unbothered by this sudden move on our part, totally comfortable in his own skin and acting like he owns this place. He’s requesting…..no, asking for a ride. I should say _no_, no way. “Sure,” he ‘heard’ himself say, “I’ll get two stallions saddled.”

***

“You are a good cook, so much better than Sherlock, ” Jim finished the last of the hearty, fragrant beef, carrot and bean stew with the fresh crusty bread and a corn salad on the side, “But what is this…..no dessert?” He looked around expectantly, licking his lips and making a puppy face at the older man who blushed with the compliment and bristled with the additional demand at the same time. “I…um, I don’t have anything for dessert, no wait, I think _I do_. I have some chocolates with me, a whole large box of Ferrero Rocher in fact. You can have some of them……”

_What is wrong with me? I am sharing chocolate? I never do that. _

Later, as the two men sat on a large and comfy couch in the spacious den and Jim munched on a chocolate, the chocolate box on his lap, Mycroft scolded himself back on path. I am not here to entertain him, I am here to gauge what’s going on between him and Sherlock. He cleared his throat and asked Jim the all-important question. “James, I am sure you understand there is a certain purpose behind getting you here, right? It’s official and at the same time, personal to some extent. I expect your full cooperation because we don’t want to land up in the same situation as….uh…..a year and half ago when we…..you know what I mean.”

“No,” Jim was a picture of angelic innocence, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I….um….what did you think this is about?”

“You invited me to your homestead. For the weekend.”

“No, I mean yes, no I mean NO. I called you for…..a discussion.”

“What….kind….of….discussion?”

There is no other way of asking except the direct method. Just get to the point, grab the bull by its horns and get this over and done with. No beating around the bush. Time is money, time is precious. Jim is precious. No, what am I thinking, no, fuck, focus Mycroft Holmes, focus. “I want to know what’s between you and Sherlock,” the elder Holmes sibling asked, blurting out the words in a rush. Thankfully he managed to keep a poker faced expression.

“Interesting,” Jim tapped his own chin, eyes glowing like jewels, “Last time I was asking for information on Sherlock. This is quite the switch. Now Sherlock’s own brother is asking me that question. Hmmmm, which side of the horizon did the sun rise in today?”

“I didn’t ask about Sherlock exactly,” Mycroft argued, sensing a power shift here, it was Jim who seemed to wield the power now since he was armed with information, “I was asking what’s your position and expectations from this thing you have going with Sherlock. Before you even ask, let me tell you I am fully aware of everything.”

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jim waggled his eyebrows and leaned across the couch, spreading on it like a Persian cat who had just licked cream off its whiskers, a seductive grin on his lips. The elder Holmes was expecting some kind of drastic action from the pocket sized powerhouse but not something so blatant, obvious and bold. It made his body react in so many ways and at so many levels that he was afraid to move, breathe or even speak. “Ohhhh,” Jim grinned, “I think there is a part of you that agrees to what I said. A big part too, quite big, I am wondering if it’s big enough as Sherlock’s or even bigger……”

“Rubbish,” Mycroft looked away, “Stop it.”

“I can stop anytime,” Jim drawled back, “But can you?”

“James I am not…..”

“….Not interested in sex with you? Really? Your body says otherwise.”

“No, no…..”

“My turn to say ‘rubbish’,” Jim laughed out loud, “You see Mike, you have called me here like one would call a date, not a hostage. A nice cozy comfy homestead, in the middle of nowhere, a home cooked meal, on top of that you’re wearing clothes that suggest you wanted me to ‘notice’ you, or should I say the ‘changes’ in you. Denims, golf shirt, suede shoes, two buttons unbuttoned, a bit of a stubble.”

_I am so screwed. Shouldn’t have underestimated him_. “Just blending into my surroundings,” Mycroft shrugged, feigning nonchalance while every fiber of his being longed to say ‘yes’ to what Jim was clearly offering him.

“Blend into me, continue the game,” Jim said, taking off his shirt and socks. He had already made short work of his jacket and tie earlier and his shoes. He had, of course, arrived wearing a Prada suit in maroon. When he saw Mycroft’s hesitation, he stood up and dropped his pants as well. Mycroft was forced to gasp audibly this time. No briefs or boxers. Jim had gone full commando. _God, he was so aroused and what a sexy body, what an amazingly pretty cock!_

“Breathing hard and heavy, trousers tenting, sweat breaking out on your temples, eyes glued to my groin, I say you really want this, don’t you? You want to know what Sherlock saw in me, why he turned totally and decided to be in my bed, why he waits for opportunities to sneak me in or sneak out and get to me, why he and I get along like a house on fire…..don’t you wanna know, don’t you want a sip from the same chalice…..?!”

‘Arrr…ggnnn….mmmm…..hnnnn…srrrrr….hhsshhh’ - Mycroft had nothing wise or even intelligible to say right now. He only heard noises come out from him, then Jim’s triumphant laughter as he pounced on the sexy and sassy Dubliner.

***

Mycroft had, in all the thirty-nine years he had walked the planet, _never _experienced this kind of loss of control before. Putting his weight on his hands, planted on either side of Jim, thrusting between the Irishman’s open legs, he loomed over his lover like a man possessed, a predator who had just tasted blood, like a caveman who couldn’t wait to fulfil his more primal instincts. Thrusting hard, he moved deeper and deeper inside the other man, enjoying the sounds of pleasure made by Jim so much that he could barely stop himself. He _couldn’t_ stop. He _wouldn’t _stop. He was just _unable_ to stop.

Jim was covered in semen. Some of it his own, a bit of it Mycroft’s. He looked hot and irresistible.

Jim sensed Mycroft’s situation and started to act like a total slut, writhing and moaning dramatically, touching his nipples and dragging his fingers down to his erection, tasting their mingled essence by skimming it off with his index finger, suggestively sucking on Mycroft’s index finger, squeezing his arse and sticking his tongue out in a sexy, dirty, almost obscene manner. “C’mon Mr. Holmes,” he said in his sing-song tune, “I knoooow you wanna own me, don’t youuu?! You wanna say some dirty thing to me, you really have those words hanging at the tip of your tongue. Uhhhhh, yeah, so deep in me, c’mon say it!”

From deep within his soul Mycroft heard a growl, a far cry from his cultured and sophisticated voice he always used. He wasn’t even aware from which level of his mind palace he had produced such a sound, more animal and less human.

“Oh yeah James I love how tight your arse is!”

“Fuck, I could do this all day!”

“Yes, yes, yes, you’re getting tighter, I’ll make you cum again!”

Onyx eyes stared at him in wondrous awe. By and by Jim’s moans slowly changed from pretentious to potent, genuine noises of ecstasy pulled out by Mycroft’s precise aim to is prostate, until they exploded in an orgasm that knocked them off their consciousness.

The only thing Mycroft remembered was cumming for the third time and Jim cumming for maybe the fifth time. As his strength drained, only a few drops produced because of the multiple times he had spent himself, he saw darkness close in on him.

One big satisfying factor was that Jim was just as spent and limp and seemed to have gone off to sleep already, spread out beneath him like a debauched angel.

***

“What do you really want from me or my brother, James?” Mycroft asked as he lay on his back, naked and covered with the dried remains of their earlier passion, the slightly stained and soiled sheets bunched up to his waist with Jim folded into his arms. The mastermind lay with his head on Mycroft’s chest, dozing. The sunny afternoon had turned into the darker, orangish glow of the evening during the time they slept and the breeze had turned cooler. He pulled the sheets up on their bodies, right up to their necks. “C’mon, tell me,” he nudged Jim, “I know you’re awake now.”

“The question is…..” Jim yawned wide against Mycroft’s chest, “….What do _you_ want?”

“My brother’s safety, England’s security, one criminal less to worry about, redeem a man who can use his brilliance for greater good than just anarchy and destruction,” Mycroft replied, stroking Jim’s soft dark hairs distractedly, a part of him refusing to believe he was cuddling with Moriarty, “Also, I just want to hear from your mouth, _what did you see in my brother_? If it’s only fun then you’ve had a lot of it. Let him go, do something so he turns away from you. If you need to use someone, then let me be the one to be used. He’s a very sensitive soul and won’t take abandonment too well.”

“Strange.”

“What is?”

“He thinks the same about you.”

“He does!?”

“Yup. All three of you, Eurus, Sherly, Mike, you guys actually love each other but you don’t seem to get along too well. There is concern but also carelessness. Aaanyhoo, not my business really. But as far as Sherly is concerned, I do have feelings for him, yeah. The sort of feelings someone like me can have, as you can pretty well understand.”

Mycroft nodded, “Yes, I am beginning to. You have used many, many people, have you not?”

“Yes. I am not a prude. Neither am I committed.”

“You slept with me,” Mycroft said, even though he was rather reluctant to bring this up bluntly, “One thing is proved today. You’re not going to be faithful to Sherlock. You just slept with his elder brother. Does he even know?”

“Weeellll,” Jim drew out the vowel sound in his usual playful manner, “As his so-called dutiful and caring elder brother, you slept with Sherlock’s man. What does that make you? Let’s not become pots and kettles now, shall we?”

Mycroft shook his head, “It’s not like I am not aware of what we’ve done and what it means to the overall picture. I wasn’t trying to trap you into a mistake and get you guys to break up. Truthfully speaking, I had never planned to do this. But…..it happened and I have no regrets. What I do have though, is a proposal. I was thinking about the nuances while you were sleeping. James, the life you lead will not take you anywhere good. Earlier I was not so concerned but now, after all that’s transpired between you and my brother, your loss will break his heart and if he does something silly after that, his loss will break mine.”

“Tra-la-la-laaaa!”

“I am not joking James.”

“Hehehe….hee-hee-hee.”

“God, being with you is like adopting an overgrown naughty toddler.”

“My loss wouldn’t break your heart Mikey?”

“No…..yes, in a way yes. You wanted to hear this, didn’t you?”

“Then let’s make a deal……”

Jim went on to lay the cards on the table, cards which he had been holding very close to his chest. He would leave the British Isles alone, no crime there nor any connections with the underworld. He would supply some information Mycroft needed to make a breakthrough in an international espionage case. He would visit London once a month and stay a week, with Sherlock, then a weekend with Mycroft. There would be an annual vacation with Sherlock, some work off and on with Mycroft and his team and of course accepting John as a friend and not try to wrap him up in explosives.

In return he would receive full immunity and safe passage, his assets wouldn’t be touched, Mycroft and Sherlock would share him amicably and without any prejudice or possessiveness. His work across the world wouldn’t be touched or interfered into and Mycroft would alert him if any of the countries got too close to discovering his identity.

“Sounds perfectly doable,” Mycroft said, relieved that it all turned out well.

“As doable as me?” Jim asked, climbing on top of Mycroft and rubbing himself against the older man. Mycroft felt a deep groan come out of him as his arms automatically wrapped around the slim, nude form writhing on top of him. “Of course,” he said, “Always.”

***

“I must admit you outdid yourself this time,” Sherlock grinned as he lay down next to Jim after taking off his T shirt, “Mycroft actually made a pact with you?!?! That man wouldn’t make a pact with anyone, not even the Queen, unless he it heavily favors him and his interests. In this case you must have really charmed the pants off my staid, dour older brother to compel him to all these terms and conditions. I thought we’d have to do some work together on this, but you conquered it all by yourself my suga’ doughnut. There is nothing left for me to action,”

“Suga’ doughnut, ewwww,” Jim squirmed as Sherlock pulled him closer, “Of course you have enough to do. Like letting me lie on my back and enjoy watching you ride me. Um….those pajama bottoms need to come off, like right now.”

Jim threw the sheets off and revealed his own nude and aroused form. For a man of medium height and a naturally lean build, he was very well-endowed. He grinned when he saw Sherlock lick his bow-shaped lips at the sight but pushed him away gently when his lover tried to fellate him. “Your wish is my command Lord Ó Muircheartaigh,” the great detective said as he lifted his butt and slid the pajamas down his legs, revealing the impressive and erect rod between his legs, “I know how you like to see me rocking on your thing….um, what do you call it in the workman’s tongue eh Lord Ó Muircheartaigh?”

“That turns you on, doesn’t it?” Jim was panting slightly with arousal by now, “Calling me by the Irish form of Moriarty!”

“Yeah,” Sherlock began to lube up Jim, “Almost as much as I love it when you speak Gaelic while we are at it. But then….you didn’t answer me. What do they call this in a rough tongue?” And he tugged the excited phallus a few times.

“Dang,” Jim grinned from ear to ear.

“I’ll take it,” Sherlock winked and lowered himself on the ‘dang’.

Jim’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he thrust up. Immediately the taller man gripped his hip and stopped him. “No, let me do all the work.”

“Be my guest Sherlylocks.”

Those were the last words Jim spoke before Sherlock took him flying.

***

Anthea looked at her boss and dared to make a slightly personal comment. She knew Mycroft had stayed with Jim in that homestead for two days and nights and emerged looking like a man at peace, the reasons for that peace being up for anyone’s guess. Of course she wasn’t going to comment on that. But something else she had to say….or rather, had to ask.

“It all turned out well at the end sir. I guess you should allow yourself to be feel relaxed and at ease now. Your brother is happy, for sure.”

“It’s because of him, _my brother_, that I agreed to this,” Mycroft said, concealing the fact that he too had a finger in the delicious pie on offer, “Otherwise I had some serious reservations. I was wondering how Sherlock had changed somewhat for the better over the past year. He refused drugs even when I staged that scenario where one of our agents tried to sell him some. He readily takes up cases where I want him involved. He doesn’t shoot the wall and wallpaper anymore and that makes Mrs. Hudson happy. John claims Sherlock has become a bit softer, not so much of a dick anymore. I guess James might be an anarchist overall but he had a calming effect on Lockie.”

“Then why do you still look worried? Now London will be safer too, there will be a drop in crime rates and all that.”

“Yeah, but then….”

“……???”

“There’s a book, not famous and not well known, but I read it and was fascinated by the theme. Le Diable amoureux, by Jacques Cazotte. I read a translation at first, named The Devil in Love, and then the French work, having perfected my French just to be able to read the original. It speaks of the Devil’s love for a young Spanish nobleman and how, after he manages to woo him and seduce him into his bed, he also quickly loses interest in him.”

“Oh…..”

Mycroft’s grey eyes turned upon her, “When I look into those eyes, they are so deep and inviting one moment and totally foreboding and spine-chilling the other. It’s like taking a glimpse into the other world. James embodies all the qualities we see in Biondetto or Biondetta, the human pageboy/pagegirl form the demon took in that book. Gender fluid in some ways, oddly captivating, compulsively charming, totally avoidable and yet fiercely attractive.”

Anthea sighed, “You do know that the supernatural has no real proven existence and nothing scientific to fall back on.”

“Yes, I am aware,” Mycroft replied and then issued a chilling statement, “I know what you’re trying to tell me Anthea. The devil doesn’t exist, right? This is all my imagination, strange conjuring tricks of an over-active hallucination. That happens to be the Devil’s best trick to penetrate into the human world we inhabit. He makes people believe so easily that he doesn’t really exist.”

***

_1 year later_

“So generous and imaginative of you to buy this homestead,” Jim said with an impish grin as Mycroft carried him to the first floor master bedroom, the same way he had done a year ago when they first had their tryst, “Beautiful countryside, remoteness and serenity, fresh air, a lovely cottage. I really do like it here and coming back here two or three times a year sounds really good! But what happens for the rest of the year? Who takes care of this place? Do you come here often, with your other lovers perhaps?”

“You have made me useless for other men. Women were already useless before. I now identify 100% as a gay man. Unfortunately, it’s just one man that I sleep with.”

“Awwwww, how cute and hot at the same time,” Jim spoke in his childlike voice, then licked at Mycroft’s jaw and snickered when the elder Holmes hissed at that, “By the same terminology, I identify as a Holmesexual. Yeah, the two men I regularly sleep with nowadays are you and your brother, Mycroft Holmes and Sherlock Holmes. Not that I mind because …. I like the waiting … the buildup …. the whole …. ‘Holmesexual’ thing. As you know, if your sister was out of her cage and ‘normal’, she would have loved to sleep with me too. Three Holmes and a Moriarty. Does make me a Holmesexual, doesn’t it?”

“I think…..” Mycroft paused as he kicked open the door and carried Jim in.

“You think what…..owwww,” Jim yelped as he was dropped on the bed.

“I think you have screwed a lot of people, and it’s worked very well for you.”

“Yeah. So?”

“I’d like to know.”

“Sure you won’t get jealous? Sherlock gets very jealous, you see! He doesn’t even want to know about my time with you. He’ll always change the topic or just pretend it was out on business, not pleasure.”

Mycroft had already started to get out of his clothes while Jim was almost naked by then, having gotten attacked at the doorway and brought to an orgasm then and there. He was about to slide off his underwear when Mycroft stopped him and took it off with his teeth. Jim hissed and groaned and writhed on the mattress, his eyes glazed over with desire. “Oh I see,” he moaned out the words almost, “You get turned on, don’t you?”

“Choose your reasons if you must,” Mycroft mouthed his neck and pinned his hands above their heads, “But I really wanna know. I am a curious man.”

“My first was when I was twelve, my math teacher, traded some of his expensive books and rare knowledge for a quick one when his wife was out,” Jim said as Mycroft inserted lube coated fingers inside him to open him up “Then came the neighbor, he was a pedophile but after seeing me he started getting delusions of love. I killed him and took all his money to escape to London at 16. The underworld crime boss then, his name was also James, James Marcus Wellington. Took over his empire. He ended up in one of those facilities and committed suicide. Then there were many, many more, from powerful ministers and stinking rich businessmen to gorgeous spies and detectives, art dealers with mafia connections and bank presidents who were closeted. But then I met Sherlock.”

Mycroft pushed inside, lying on top of Jim and holding him protectively under his larger frame, “_The best_?”

“_The one_. I knew my days of a different man in bed every week were over.”

Jim’s voice was slowly wavering, he was coiling up with sexual need as Mycroft snuck a hand between their sliding bodies and grabbed the leaking member. He thrust up into the tight fist immediately with a soft cry.

“Then we met here at the homestead.”

“Uhhh…..yeah, we did.”

“And you willingly allowed yourself to get into this?”

Jim wrapped his slim thighs around his lover’s hips, fucking himself on the latter’s cock. Mycroft found it hard to speak or focus on anything. He was getting close. After being deprived for months, fucking his James was like a feast provided to a starving prisoner. Every inch of his musculature tensed up as his body prepared for a huge deluge of a release.

“I wanted to experience the cooling effect of Mycroft after being overheated by Sherlock.”

“Obviously,” Mycroft blinked, face contorting with pleasure.

“_Obviously_,” Jim replied, words ending with a wail as they both came at the same time.


End file.
